


Dangerous.

by ForReasonsUnknown (orphan_account)



Series: Of Spitfires & Love Songs. [6]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Admissions of Feelings, Explicit Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Pre-film, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ForReasonsUnknown
Summary: I'm living a lie, Farrier realises as he fucks Collins through the thin mattress of their shared hut, the latter's fingers digging bruises into his shoulders, ankles crossed behind Farrier's back.(based on the Imagine Dragons song 'I Don't Know Why'.





	Dangerous.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out differently than expected, so I may write an additional work based on this song. Enjoy!

_Dangerous,_

_Your love is always dangerous,_

_And now I'm lost in us,_

_We're living win our lie and trust._

_I'm living a lie_ , Farrier realises as he fucks Collins through the thin mattress of their shared hut, the latter's fingers digging bruises into his shoulders, ankles crossed behind Farrier's back. _We both are_ , is his second realisation of the evening, Collins' back arching off the bed almost painfully as he comes, Farrier following him swiftly over the cliff edge only moments later, the blonde grumbling incoherently as Farrier pulls out once he's gathered his composure again.

Collins lights up a cigarette almost immediately, and the sight of smoke billowing elegantly from between the blonde's lips is enough to get Farrier's cock interested in going again, but Collins has enough of a limp as it is, and something tells the brunette that two times in one night definitely would not help their situation, especially with their inspections tomorrow. _I'll suck his cock instead,_ Farrier decides idly, taking a long drag of the cigarette passed to him.

Passing the cigarette back, he shifts, fully intending to get Collins to come again within the next few minutes - mainly as an apology for nearly getting himself killed twice on their most recent mission - but is instead distracted by the blonde's fingers interlacing with his, the cigarette dead and abandoned in their makeshift ashtray.

It's now that his third major realisation of the evening comes to him: _What we're doing is outrageously, irrationally dangerous_. And by that - surprisingly enough - he doesn't mean the war. Because voluntarily flying about in a tin-can on steroids trying to get the enemy to shoot at you is, as any intellectual would put it, a really fucking bad idea. Though preferable to being shot in the head in some muddy French field.

No, by this he means their prolonged little affair. And it would be far better if what lay between them was purely sexual - and for a while, this had very much been the case - but it wasn't. Instead, when they're flying together and Farrier gets the sudden urge to throw himself in front of enemy fire to protect the blonde, it's increasingly his heart talking, not his cock. And it's dangerous for a multitude of reasons. Firstly and most obviously, if they get found out then getting shot down over occupied territory will seem like a reward.

More worryingly though, Farrier's reckless streak in regards to Collins is hardly helping his chances of making it out of this war alive. Deeper emotions had - unbeknownst to Farrier - seeped in and corrupted his mind, and the deeper he falls the worse it becomes. There is no place for love in times of war, and Farrier's willingness to face the German guns head on for even a mere shot at keeping Collins alive that little bit longer is a _textbook fucking example_ of _that_ hypothesis.

Collins is no better, either. Though his personal brand of provoked insanity comes in the form of aggression to their own side, defending Farrier's image to its very limits, and acting generally like a bit of an arse whenever any of their colleagues inconvenience him even slightly. While not exactly ideal, this would be fine. It's war. Everybody's an arse sometimes; although, in Farrier's expert opinion, Hitler hasn't quite got the hang of the whole 'sometimes' part yet.

It gets dangerous when Collins has to be dragged off a man kicking and screaming, knuckles bloody and teeth bared in anger because the man had said all the wrong things to precisely the wrong person. It gets even worse when Collins decides to be a smart-arse to their commanding officer, leaving the possibility of a court-Marshall hanging over his head. Farrier tries to make himself blind to it. See it as the dedication of a loyal - admittedly, slightly unhinged - friend. But he knows it's not. And that's the _worst fucking part._

"Have you got lost again in that big ol' brain of yours, Farrier?" Collins' sleepy voice breaks him from his thoughts, the blonde plastering himself happily to Farrier's front, head resting comfortably under the brunette's chin. And Farrier should be able to brush Collins off, distract him with a quick blowjob and get him immediately to sleep. But the blonde's eyes go soft with concern, head lifting from Farrier's chest and contorting with worry.

Collins' hand under his chin has him jolting back into reality, blinking a few times to clear the haze, and taking a moment to admire the glow coming off Collins' skin from the lamp on the stand beside them. "I think, Collins, that I may have gone and fallen in love with you," Farrier blurts, _instantly_ regretting it. "You utter bastard." He adds, both for effect, and to check that he still actually _has_ control over his vocal chords.

Collins swallows, eyes downcast, considering. And Farrier is confused, because _this_ isn't how this was supposed to go. The blonde was supposed to get upset, to storm out, to _at least_ tell him that what's between them is only temporary, only an arrangement to relieve them both of a shared stress and tension. To tide them over until the war ends, and they can settle down with some pretty woman and have a family of their own.

Collins does none of these things, instead, he laces their fingers together with a tenderness that makes Farrier nervous. "I suppose I should admit that the feeling is very much mutual, Farrier." The brunette releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding; if only to stop himself from screaming. Because he's angry. Angry that Collins allowed himself to get attached, to be as foolish as he had been. That Collins had put himself in front of a danger that Collins couldn't protect him from. That he had become the biggest threat to Collins in the endless pile of shit that was their current predicament.

"This can only end _one way_ , Collins," Farrier says, low and serious after a silence that stretches on far too long. "And I'd like to save you from that, if I can." Deep down though, he knows it's pointless. Because he'll yield to Collins' begging, he'll give in to Collins' blunt words and wandering hands. He'll give in to his own selfish drives. The blonde seems unimpressed by this, as though he knows exactly what Farrier is saying, but frankly couldn't give a toss.

"Farrier, this war will likely end in fire for us, no matter what we do now," he starts, lips now barely inches from Farrier's own; it takes a supreme amount of self-control not to interrupt him entirely by kissing the life out of him. "If these are going to be my final months on this infernal planet, I'd rather spend them with someone I love." And there it is, their fates are sealed. Because Farrier won't say no. And to his credit, Collins' response was relatively logical, if not painfully cynical. Though, that was Collins through and through.

"This is dangerous, Collins." Farrier protests weakly, but it's over, it's done. It has been since the first time they kissed. "So is everything we do," Collins retorts, and Farrier actually laughs, unable to resist the urge to kiss the blonde this time. "Now, Farrier, stop wasting time, and fuck me already." Farrier grins, and does just that, not once noting how terrible the position they've just put themselves in is. How dangerous what they admitted to - and thereby entered into - is.

But as Collins falls asleep on his chest, throughly fucked and sated, his own body aching for sleep. He decides it's worth it. And that Collins is entirely, frustratingly, illogically right. These may be their last months alive, they might as well spend them doing what they want with who they want.

And Farrier, _undoubtedly_ , wants Collins.


End file.
